


Convince Me

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Little Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, But Some Sweetness Still, Cas loves Dean, Dark Dean, Dean's Self Hatred, Dubious Consent, Due to Cas' Inability to Say No to Dean, M/M, Sweet Castiel, Violence, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 01:58:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6137362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean feels the darkness in his soul and tries to run away.<br/>But Cas just can't leave him alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Convince Me

“I’m fine,” was the mantra, Dean growled into the phone. 

Or:  “I’m fine.  Sam is gone, and I don’t need anyone else.”

Cas didn’t want to push it.  He knew Dean’s limits, knew that he needed his space, and needed his privacy.  But Sam called him on the phone, upset, and pleading.

This was Dean like he had never seen him before.  This was Dean, lost to the world.

Cas found Dean in Little Rock, Arkansas, in a dive bar at 12 midnight.

Dean saw Cas, downed the rest of his beer and ordered another one.  “How do you like AK, Cas?” He sneered.  “You’ve seen the entire world, but I bet to God you’ve never seen more truckers and bugs.”

Cas sat down hesitantly in the stool besides Dean.  He wasn’t sure what to make of this version of his friend.  Angry, and brittle; he held himself with an edge, and his voice was clipped and abrupt, even as he made the stupid Dean-jokes that Cas was so used to.

Cas had missed him.  Missed the burnt edges surrounding the caring, loyal heart.  But Dean was harder now.  Cas could see nothing but edge.

“How are you doing, Dean?” Cas asked slowly, watching Dean’s face for any flicker of emotion that might remind him that Dean was really still there.  But Dean’s face was flat, expressionless.  He stared ahead at the bar, licking his lips, and watching their reflection through the clear glass of the liquor bottles. 

“I’m fine,” Dean said now, again in that steady, almost resentful tone.  As if Cas had no right to ask.

“I’ve… missed you,” Cas said, hesitantly.  It was something strange to say, something no Dean would ever accept.  But the old Dean would snort and push him and call him lame or… something.  Cas said it hesitantly because it was part painful truth that hurt to admit, and part trick to lure some kind of reaction out of Dean.

There was no real reaction.  But Dean did turn his head, slowly, and scrutinize Cas, his eyes mercilessly scanning over his face.  Cas paused, watched Dean watching him.  He let himself be scanned, wanting Dean to look and see, the pain in his face, the longing in his eyes.  The green eyes finally rested on Cas’ blue ones, and they stared at each other for a long moment.

Finally Dean turned, abruptly.  “I’m not sure why.”

Cas let out a breath, realizing only now that he had been holding it.  And it was like a punch to the gut, Dean watching him that carefully, and seeing nothing.  Cas had been scanned and dismissed like a used condom, nothing of worth, and perhaps even a little disgusting.

They sat at the bar, not saying anything.  Cas ordered something highly alcoholic, and tried to summon the courage to say the next part – the part about Sam, the part that was most likely to make Dean react – with anger. 

And it cut Cas, that knowledge, that the one thing that could reach Dean, was not him – was never him – but Sam.  When everything else had fallen away, and nothing else mattered, only Sam could possibly bring Dean back.

“Sam is worried about you,” Cas finally said.

The glass in Dean’s hand shattered abruptly.

Dean looked down, as if surprised, as if not realizing he had put any extra pressure on it.  He shook his hand, letting fall a shower of glass slivers, and then reached forward and pulled out a large shard out of his hand.

“Dean,” Cas said, jumping up and grabbing Dean’s hand.  Dean pulled away, fiercely, looking defiantly at Cas.  The bartender rushed over and started cleaning up the mess. 

“Jesus, man,” he said.  “You need to go to the hospital.  Do you need me to call you a cab?”

“No,” Cas said, as Dean continued to glare at him.  “I’ve got it.  I’ll – I’ll give him a ride to the hospital.”

Cas ushered Dean outside and Dean, perhaps not wanting the hassle of the bar patrons, let himself be guided out.  Once they had escaped to the cool night air, Cas leaned forward and placed his hands on Dean’s bleeding wound, pressing lightly and closing his eyes and his grace slipped out and healed the opening.

Dean, still watched.  His eyes were cold and calculating.  There was no thank you, or pain, or relief.  His gaze scared Cas, who gasped and pulled away from him as soon as he could.  Dean watched him, then put down his hand.

"It's better that I'm far away from Sam," he finally said, putting his head down.  "It's better for him."

"You don't know that."

Dean snorted and shoved Cas aside, walking past him, into the alley.  Cas let himself be pushed, watched Dean, taking a few steps but keeping his distance.  "I do know that, Cas," Dean said, his back to Cas.  "I'm not who I used to be.  I'm... dangerous."

"You're still Dean."

"No.  I'm not.  I'm something else entirely."

“We can fix it,” Cas said.  “We can figure out what happened.  We can fix you.”  He overtook the distance between them and put his hand on Dean's back, in what was supposed to be a gesture of reassurance.  Dean flinched, whirled around, and threw Cas against the wall of a building, taking his wrist and twisting it back.  Cas took a sharp breath, more with surprise than hurt; he let Dean pull his wrist in an unnatural angle.

“I don’t need to be fixed,” Dean hissed, dropping Cas’ hand when he realized he couldn’t hurt the angel, even in his weakened state.

“You do,” Cas pleaded.  “This isn’t you.  I know you’re still in there.”

"You don't."

"Dean," Cas hesitated, negotiated with himself.  He had a million words he wanted to say, but didn't know which ones would be the secret to unlock Dean, to make him finally listen.  "Dean, you've distanced yourself from Sam because you don't trust yourself.  You're still taking precautions to take care of the people you care about. You still care."

Something darkened in Dean, then; something snapped like a rubber band wrapped around his soul, and he pulled Cas off the wall and knocked him hard, against the brick.  Cas remained stoic, and Dean cursed, punched the wall beside him and yelled, backing up.  "Goddamn you," he panted, glaring at Cas.  "I want to hurt you so bad.  I think I would kill you if I could."

Cas struggled to speak.  The fleeting thought skittered across his mind: _Maybe I should just shut up now_ , but the words were already trickling through his lips:  "You're still taking your pain and anger out on me, Dean.  Because you know I can handle it."

"Why won't you leave me alone?  Why do you believe in me so fucking much?  I don't deserve it."

"Because I know you, Dean.  I brought you back from Hell, I put you back together.  I _know_ you."

"Well you don't anymore."  Dean stood on the other side of the alley, putting as much distance between them as he could.  He was still breathing hard, and Cas felt his heart breaking.  There was so much anger and darkness in his friend and nothing could break through. 

Finally Dean whispered, " _What will it take to convince you?"_

And then something snapped in Cas' heart. He knew he had to reach his friend somehow.  And he was scared, yes, but there was really only way, not to convince Cas, but to convince Dean. 

He strode towards Dean, with purpose now, and Dean reared up, surprised and at a loss for this sudden change in Castiel.  Cas reached Dean, wrapped his hands around his neck, and pressed his forehead against Dean's.  Dean, recovering quickly from his shock, put his hands on Cas' wrists, squirming and trying to pull away, but helpless now against Cas' full power.

Cas gasped, tensed up, and then opened his mouth and his eyes.  Blue light poured from his orifices and curled through the air, towards Dean.  Dean frantically pulled back, caught, trying to say _Stop_ or _Cas_ but unable to make words; and then he stopped immediately as the light reached him, dripped into his mouth and eyes and filled him with a sudden glow, the feel of Cas' grace gushing through his veins, a sudden power rippling through his skin, into his muscles, his arms, his fingers, his heart. 

His entire body tingled.  He suddenly felt so powerful, so utterly capable of everything, so above the world.

"Cas," he said, gasped, as he opened his eyes, surprised to find himself still in a dark alley with the ex-angel.  "Cas, what did you do?  You've got to take it back."

Cas faltered, his legs suddenly weak and giving way underneath him.  He would have fallen, except that Dean was still holding onto his wrists, holding him up.  "I can't," he said, breathless, weak.  "You'd have to give it back.  And it's... it's terribly painful, doing that."

He fell to his knees then, Dean still holding onto him, just barely.  Dean let go, raising his hands to look up at them in wonder.  Then he surveyed the alleyway, finding only a dumpster to hold his interest, and pushed his hand out into the air.  The dumpster immediately flew down the alleyway, crashing into a car parked at the end.  Dean smiled, watching his work.  Then he looked down at Cas.  "You. are. so. stupid." 

"I trust you," Cas said, closing his eyes and swaying, trying to hold himself up.  It looked like he was praying. 

Praying to Dean.

The thought suddenly enraged Dean.  That constant following, Cas always watching him, always telling him he was good, and righteous, fucking _chosen_.  All of Cas' love and admiration boiled in Dean's heart into a deep bitter resentment, and Dean turned now to Cas, on his knees in front of him, arms at his sides as if he were completely at Dean's mercy, and Dean couldn't take it anymore.

With one powerful bash of his fist, Cas went down like the meatsack he was, flying backwards and landing splayed out on the dirty gravel.  Dean scoffed, laughed.  He walked around to Cas in amazement.  "You can be hurt," he said, watching Cas groan and grab his head, attempting to sit up.  "You can _feel_." 

Cas didn't say anything, just tried to pull himself up.  Dean tried again; kicked him, sharply, in the face.  Cas fell down again, collapsed, and Dean could see now that his nose was bleeding.

Dean squatted beside Cas, and trailed his fingers through the blood on his face.  "Wow," he breathed, examining the blood, dabbing a bit on his tongue to taste.  He looked down at Cas in amazement.  Cas was wincing in pain, squirming on the ground and trying to breathe, taking in huge gasps of breath.  He took Cas' face in his hands, studying his work in amazement.  Cas, still gasping, looked up at Dean with his huge puppy dog eyes.  "You are better than this," he said.  "I believe in you."

Dean hesitated, for just a moment; and then pushed Cas down roughly, forcing his head hard against the gravel.  "You don't know me," Dean.  "Your trust in me is entirely misplaced."  He thought for a second, and then ripped open Cas's shirt and pushed back the trenchcoat, revealing his chest and breathing in sharply.  Dean trailed his hands down the smooth, pale skin.  Cas watched him, as Dean caressed his sides, his shoulders, his neck, and Dean leaned down as if he were going to kiss him on the neck; instead, took a hard, vicious bite, and Cas yelped as Dean bit through the skin, releasing a steady stream of blood. 

Dean pulled back, admiring his work, tearing his fingernails roughly up and down Cas' sides.  "You're weak," he said.

"I give myself to you," Cas responded, too quickly.  Dean frowned, leaned forward, and pressed his arm against Cas' throat.  Cas choked, but didn't fight it. 

"I am going to kill you tonight," Dean said, staring into Cas' eyes. Cas looked back at him steadily, didn't respond - _couldn't_ \- and then, still, even after all of that... Cas leaned forward, as far as he could, and placed a soft, sweet kiss on Dean's lips.

Dean growled, pulled back quickly, and punched Cas across the cheek.  Cas gasped, his breath back, and turned to the right, spitting out blood.  Dean, angry now, his movements quick and sharp, pulled back and undid Cas' belt buckle and zipper, brusquely ripping the jeans down his legs. 

"I give you my consent," Cas said, watching Dean move over him, and Dean groaned, disgusted.  He grabbed Cas now, flipping him over like a rag doll, and pressed him against the cement.  Dean was already hard, had been trying to ignore the growing sense in his pants ever since he got the power, but now, seeing Cas lie prone on the greasy alleyway gravel before him, he couldn't contain it.  He was impatient, hungry.  He reached down and grabbed Cas' face, shaking him and feeling the blood pour over his hand.  Cas whimpered. 

Dean pulled back, his hand now covered with the dark red blood, Cas' blood, and Dean still reveled at the possibility, and then he pulled Cas' legs apart and dipped the bloody hand in between, working the blood around, into him. 

Cas was quiet now, not able to respond.  Dean leaned forward, smiling.  "Do you still?"  He whispered in Cas' ear.  Cas, silent, biting his lip in fear, nodded.  Dean watched him, disapproving, waiting for a different kind of response.  He slowly pushed one finger into Cas, and Cas cried out, to Dean's excitement. 

He was warm and slick and tight, and Dean was suddenly anxious, impatient, to be inside of him.  He forced in another finger, too soon, and Cas collapsed, not able to hold himself up anymore.  

Dean took this as encouragement, and pulled his fingers out of Cas, frantically undid his own pants.  He pulled his boxers down with a sigh of relief as his dick sprung out of the restraining cloth, and he lowered himself to Cas.  "Do you still believe in me?" he asked.

"I love you, Dean," was the answer.

Dean gritted his teeth and didn't respond - instead, with no warning, pushed his dick in violently.  Cas made a strange yelping noise that Dean was only half aware of.  The rest of him was completely lost, breathless, shivering, from the feel of Cas suddenly around him.  He couldn't even move at first, despite his determination to go in hard and violent; the sensation was overwhelming, and he suddenly felt like crying.

But he gained control over himself, and slowly started rocking in and out of Cas.  Each pull sent shivers up and down his body, and as he paced himself, the hunger arose in him again, and he came in harder, deep, slamming into Cas with all of his strength, as Cas made strange, soft noises underneath him.

The angel, fallen, powerless, underneath him.  

It still wasn't enough.  Dean pulled back, taking Cas' left leg and pulling it around, flipping Cas over onto his back even as Dean was still inside of him.  Cas again, complied, letting himself be turned and then lay on his back, looking up at Dean with those soulful eyes. 

Dean wanted him to watch.  He wanted Cas to beg and cry and fight it.  But Cas just lay there, watching Dean with a strange mixture of fear and awe and, strangely, love; only occasionally making small hurt noises. Dean leaned forward and started again, this time rougher, harder.  He felt so good, he didn't think he could hold it for much longer.  And Cas was gasping, biting back tears, but still he watched Dean with that loving gaze.  Dean couldn't stand it.

He once again pressed a hand against Cas' throat, loving the feel of Cas' pulse, beating inside his skin;  leaning in as he pounded inside of him. 

"I'm going to fuck the shit out of you," he said.  "I mean literally.  I am going to fuck the life out of you."

Cas winced, unable to stop the soft noises and grunts as Dean fucked him.  His dick was growing, and Dean smiled down at him, refusing to touch it, ready to push Cas' hands back if he tried.  But instead, Cas took Dean's wrist in his hands - not trying to pull it off of his neck, but only holding it, as if reassuring himself, or Dean, and closing his eyes.

Dean, angry, pressed harder against Cas and closed his eyes,  letting himself fall apart to the sensation of Cas around him.  He groaned, and all through his body, Cas' grace shivered, like lightning, electrifying Dean's entire body. 

He came with a sudden, inexorable shout, pausing and bracing himself over Cas' body as he pulsed inside of him;  long and hard, he held himself and groaned, unable to speak or breath or move for a full minute. 

Then he collapsed, fell on top of Cas, still inside of him, sweating and panting and suddenly free of the anger and hatred that had consumed him. 

He felt tears prick his eyes, felt light-headed and dizzy. 

After a long moment, he pulled himself up and looked at Cas' face.  "Cas?" he asked tentatively. Cas didn't respond.  His eyes were open, but off-center;  he wasn't looking at Dean finally, but just past him. 

Dean's stomach dropped.  

"Cas?" he said again, scrambling off of the man.  

 Cas lay on the gravel, not moving.  His face was stained red with blood, and his bare chest was scratched, as if a wild animal had attacked him.

Dean winced, closed his eyes, a sudden pressure overtaking his brain.  He remembered the blind rage, the hatred pulsating through him, the brilliance of the grace, the breathtaking power over Cas.

He blinked, hoping Cas would be back up by the time he looked up again.  But Cas was still on the ground.

Dean choked back a sob.  _I'm literally going to fuck you to death_.  He convulsed, shivered, with the terror of what he was capable of.  He had told Cas.  Hadn't he told him, _take it back_ , and the little shit had said _I trust you_ and _I believe in you_ and _I love you._

Dean retched, tears now pouring down his face.  Cas had trusted him, and Dean had failed him, again.  Dean had been right in the end, he hadn't deserved any of it from Cas, hadn't been the Good Man he wanted him to be.  And he wanted to rail against Cas for thinking he could be, but instead he could only blame himself, for never living up to Cas' expectations.

"You're an angel," he told Cas' body in the darkness.  "You deserved so much better.  Why did you fall to the mud?  With _me?"_

  _Were an angel_ he reminded himself.  And then he looked at his hand, just now remembering, and wiggled his fingers.  A small spark of hope ignited in him.

He wiped his eyes and climbed back over to Cas, shaky and tentative as he did up the buttons and adjusted Cas' tie, his trenchcoat back onto his chest.  He pulled up his pants carefully and buckled them up with trembling hands.  Then he sat back and looked at Cas.

The Grace hadn't come with instructions.  He waved his hands over Cas' face, trying to imagine the blood was gone.  But nothing happened.  Cas was still staring, up into the night sky, he face frozen with a terrible look of sadness and hurt.  Dean closed his eyes and grit his teeth.

He couldn't heal.  But maybe he could give the grace back.  Cas had implied it was possible.

Dean leaned over and closed his eyes, trying to remember how Cas had given it to him.  He felt the power surging, undulating within him.  He tried to focus all of it into his core, pulling the brilliance back from his veins, his limbs, his muscles. 

It did hurt.  His arms and legs shouted with sharp pangs as the grace receded.  Dean held onto the churning grace inside his torso and tried to ignore the horrible pain, as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Cas.

"Cas," he whispered.  Tears dripped onto Cas' face, slowly sliding through the bloodstains.  "I'm so sorry, Cas."  He swallowed, hard, and started forcing the Grace up, through his body and into his head.  He gasped, tried not to scream with pain.  He felt the blue light filling his head, making him dizzy and blurring his vision.  On the cusp of forcing it out, pouring it back into Cas, he felt his body hesitate, and pull back.

He couldn't give it up.

Everything hurt now.  His entire body felt like a collection of dry bones and ripped muscle cord.  His body screamed, pulled back on the Grace, wanting, needing.  Slivers of the grace slid back into place, reassuring his body, trying desperately to assuage their pain and trauma.

Dean gasped and his eyes shot open as the grace snapped back into him; searched Cas' empty eyes for help, or in apology, wanting to somehow apologize for not being strong enough to save him.  For failing him once again.

But then he saw Cas' face, and remembered that look he gave him.

That he always gave him.

That pure, unadulterated love and attention.  The admiration of a creature so much more powerful than him.  The feel of Cas at his side, fighting with him.

Dean sobbed audibly, and slapped his hand on his mouth; though no one was around to hear.  But his heart was breaking, and he looked at Cas with sudden realization, unable to come to terms with this new knowledge, but still, pushing it out, wondering, out loud: "I love you, Cas."

Set now, he closed his eyes again, and with all of his strength, forced the Grace up out of his body, and curled it through the air to Cas.  His body screamed, and he was choking, sobbing, bleeding quite suddenly, but still he pushed it out until it was gone, and he collapsed on the ground, panting with exertion and pain and horror.

He lay there, hearing nothing over the sound of his own breath, heaving, and reeling from the pain shooting throughout his body.  He had almost gained control of himself when he remembered, and opened his eyes.

Cas was sitting next to him, looking down at him with curiosity.

"Cas," Dean said, tears prickling his eyes again. 

Cas pressed his hand against Dean, and he slowly caught his breath, and his limbs stopped shaking, and he shuddered still, finding himself again.  His legs and arms still felt weak, and as he tried to sit up, Cas put his hand on his chest to stop him.

"You need to rest for a moment," Cas said. 

"Cas," Dean said, grabbing Cas' wrist and pleading up at him.  He felt sick at the sudden parallel in dynamics.  "Cas, I failed you.  I... hurt you."

"You saved me."

"I killed you."

"You brought me back." 

They both stared at each other, at an impasse.  Dean felt frustrated, some kind of argument on the tip of his tongue, but unable to explain.  Cas just bit his lip and nodded.

"You have a darkness in you, Dean."

Dean cried out and laid back down, covering his face. 

"But," Cas continued, leaning over and pulling Dean's hands away, looking him in the eyes as he said this next part, "you also have your goodness still in you.  You saved me, Dean.  You brought me back, though it hurt you.  That's not for nothing."

Dean's face crumpled, and he sniffed, not able to look Cas in the eyes after what he had done.  "But, I... I..."

"That means we can help you.  We can save you," Cas said again.  He looked forlornly at Dean, still a mess underneath him.  Then he reached around, wrapping his arms around Dean and pulling him up into a sitting position, and hugged him tightly.

Dean felt small and broken inside Cas' grasp.  He couldn't stop sobbing, couldn't stop insisting, even this, _he didn't deserve this_ , not after what he had done.

"I consented, Dean.  I let you."

"I'll never forgive myself," Dean whimpered.

"We'll get through this," Cas said simply.  And he rocked him in his arms, in the darkness, in the alley. 


End file.
